


okay, i'm not okay

by notsosour



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: 707 | Choi Luciel's Route, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Brotherly Affection, F/M, Fluff, Internal Conflict, Kidnapping, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24996511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsosour/pseuds/notsosour
Summary: He had to be cold. Aloof. Bitter. Undeserving of anything but hate and pity and disgust. The lies he spouts to keep her away coats his tongue like oil, and he watches as her smile dampens more and more as days go bye. He just wished it didn’t hurt so much.Seven tries to keep you away, but just as you two reach an impasse, someone from his past forces him to rethink his decisions... and his life, really.
Relationships: 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character, 707 | Choi Luciel/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 144





	okay, i'm not okay

**Author's Note:**

> set during day 9-ish?
> 
> i wanted to do that thing where mc is kidnapped, and then she's forced to admit that seven doesn't love her and stuff bc i wanted to make him feel guilty, then i started feeling bad for seven's stupid feelings, then i started feeling bad for mcs even stupider feelings, and then unknown appeared and i felt bad for him too-
> 
> anyway, here is some Choi twins flangst (kind of, since it gets a little crackish at one point), since they have my whole heart

He was always painfully aware of her presence even with his back facing her. It wasn’t difficult. She was a star in a black hole, an inferno in darkness. He could never look directly at her because doing so was looking into the sun; her warmth encompassed him like stepping into a hot bath, making him forget why he was ever trying to distance himself from her in the first place.

It was easy to forget when she smiled. She called him God Seven, but she was his goddess. He would destroy the world if that was what she wanted. But she could never know. She would never know that there wasn’t a single second that she wasn’t on his mind, that he sometimes stayed up all night coding just to see her grumpy morning shuffle to the kitchen in search of her favourite tea, that if she asked him to kill himself he’d jump off a skyscraper faster than she could tell him how. She would never know that he sometimes dreamed of a future with her, of grey hairs and crows feet and soft kisses in bed with the morning sunlight washing over them like a lover’s caress.

God he loved her.

But he, he was a cockroach that threatened the lives of the people he loved just by existing. He put innocent people in danger, orchestrated deaths, destroyed lives. He made peace with the fact that he would never deserve to be happy, let alone be happy with her. The only thing he could do was make her safe and happy, and she would be the happiest and the safest, far, far away from him.

She deserved someone who would return the warm smiles she blessed him with every time they made eye contact, someone who would make her as happy as she made him, someone who didn’t push her away, who wouldn’t let her eat alone, who wouldn’t tell her that her feelings meant nothing to him. She deserved someone as good as her, impossible as it was. She was love, kindness and acceptance personified and he knew that whoever was blessed with her love would never be able to measure up. He knew he definitely didn’t.

So he had to be cold. Aloof. Bitter. Undeserving of anything but hate and pity and disgust. The lies he spouts to keep her away coats his tongue like oil, and he watches as her smile dampens more and more as days go bye. He just wished it didn’t hurt so much.

–-

You hurt. You’ve been hurting since Seven came over, saved you from his brother, and then proceeded to act like you were the worst thing he’d ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on. Was it all a lie? His flirting in the chatrooms, his teasing calls… Were you just too stupid to realise that he meant none of it?

Then again, who could blame him? You were the cause of all these problems. If you weren’t stupid enough to go into a stranger’s house without permission, Seven wouldn’t be risking his life to save your worthless one and trying to find his long lost brother, who also happened to be his enemy. 

But there were times… There were times when you witnessed the smallest indication of his feelings for you. His love for you that he tries so desperately to hide. His insistence that you eat, despite not having a proper meal for himself. His determination for keeping you safe. His frantic consolation upon seeing your tears.

And then it disappears.

_ You don’t need to care about me. _

_ I told you to just leave me alone to work. _

_ You’re just going to get hurt. _

_ Sort out your own feelings. _

And you’re left with a broken heart and pinpricks of tears threatening to flow down your cheeks.

But it’s okay, it’s fine. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he didn’t really love you. You can’t force someone to love you. So you do the only thing you can do. You make his life easier. You make yourself scarce, you stop calling him, you leave out dishes for him on the table and eat your share in your room, out of sight, out of mind. You clean quietly, read even quieter, and only cry in the shower, where the sound of the water drowns out the sound of your sobs. 

\--

She stopped talking. 

He told her to, told her to stop distracting him, told her to shut up if she wanted him to get this over quickly so she could be rid of him forever.

But the reality of cold silence where there once used to be warmth struck him to the core, to say the least. 

She walks on eggshells around him now, footsteps light, breath held like she’s afraid to set him off again.

She remains cheerful in RFA chatrooms but her calls to other RFA members have decreased drastically in number, in volume even more so. He very actively ignores the curl of envy that suffocates his lungs when he hears her soft, tinkling laugh, a response to a flirty joke Zen probably made. The small thorn of wistfulness stabbing into his heart, wondering if he could ever coax the same sound out of her again. 

But no, Zen would be a better choice. Or Jumin, or even Yoosung. They would take care of her, they wouldn’t get her killed.

She used to talk about them as his fingers flew over his keyboard, her facing his back, rambling on about Jumin and Zen’s fights, how she felt bad for Jaehee, and how they should be really be doing something about Yoosung’s addiction to games, coercing hidden smiles from him like squeezing water from a rock. 

Yet, it came to an abrupt end because of him. Because he told her that he didn’t care, that she was distracting him, that she was putting all of their lives at risk just because she couldn’t learn to leave him alone.

He remembers her crestfallen reaction to his coldness. Of course he remembers. How could he forget the way her sentence tapered off into awkward silence, the soft apology she whispered out, the way her steps were unsteady as she slowly made her way to her room? 

He had told her to sort out her own feelings, and she had made a soft noise in the back of her throat, like the whimper of a hurt animal, sending shards of glass into his heart. If he had looked at her, he’s sure he could have made out the glossy sheen of tears filling her eyes. But he only turned his back on her, let her collect herself, and wiped away his own tears of frustration when he heard the door to her bedroom click shut, the finishing touch to his symphony of heartbreak. 

But that was then, and this is now, and right now he would sell his soul to turn back time, back to when she replied to his curt words with cheeky pick-up lines, or when every one of his glares would be met with a soft huff of laughter and the same affectionate look in her eyes. Not this.

She doesn’t meet his eyes anymore. She responds to his clipped sentences with soft mumbles of acknowledgement, her once cheerful energy subdued, and the only time he hears her laugh is when it's muffled through her bedroom door. He deserves death.

She moves like a ghost in the apartment. Sometimes his only sighting of her in a day is out of the corner of his eye. 

  
He wants to scream, he wants to throw a tantrum, he wants to shake her until she understands that she shouldn’t waste her sadness on him, that she should use this opportunity to drop him like a hot coal, because he’s bad for her, and he will always be bad for her. He’ll always be the tar corrupting her pure innocence, and the sooner she realises this, the better it will be.

Maybe it’ll hurt more, for him, when she will finally meet his eyes again, but he will no longer see the affection that used to live there, just cold detachment, or bitter anger. Maybe it’ll hurt even more when she stops being sad, because then he’ll know that she doesn’t care anymore, that maybe she never really did. But that’s what he wanted, isn’t it? He wanted for her to realise that he’s not who she thinks he is, that she’s better off without him, that he can’t make her happy.

But he wants to.  _ God _ , he wants to.

Surely she must know he loves her. Surely she must have an inkling that his coldness is due to concern for her safety, not due to his lack of feelings. Surely she must know that he could write sonnets about her, love letters, songs, plays, and that nothing could really explain the depth of emotion he felt for her. Surely, surely she must know?

The two warring sides of his heart keep him in torment, but one day he hears a choked sob come from the bathroom, and they both come to a conclusion, his fingernails digging into his palms to the point of pain, stopping himself from running into the bathroom and wiping away her tears.

Maybe… maybe he was pushing her away too hard. Maybe, she deserved a reprieve from his unpleasantness. She was the one doing the RFA a favour after all, taking the mantle from Rika, keeping them together with her magnetic joy and optimism. 

He starts ordering food, always her favourite and always for her, ignoring the food delivery person ringing the doorbell until she comes out to receive it. She always leaves his share on the dining table for him even though he has no idea how she knows which food he prefers.

\--

Ever since his outburst that day, you’ve been more cautious. You didn’t care much about your own safety, since you didn’t really matter much to the world, but the last thing you wanted to do was distract him, from finding his brother, from securing the safety of the RFA, from retaining his sanity.

Sure, you were sad about it. How could you  _ not _ be sad about it? He’s been telling you to stop distracting him for days, but you didn’t listen, didn’t pay attention to his cold words, and kept at the delusion that having a sense of humour would get him to admit his love for you. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. 

So yes, you still had your normal cry times in the shower, sue you. 

  
But… if you think about it. He’s been… nicer. In his own sort of way. He’d been quietly ordering food for the past few days from your favourite sushi place a few blocks away. You don’t know how he always manages to get your favourite rolls, or how he convinced them to add a shit ton more flying fish roe than the norm because you never could. You suppose it’s just a Seven thing, beautiful, devastating Seven.

He hurts you, so much. Confuses you, even more. You want to make him suffer, you want to make him sad, but you don’t want to do either of those things at all. You just want him to be healthy, and happy, and safe.

_ So fuck you, Seven, Luciel, whatever your real name is. You love me, but you don’t want to, and I’m cool with that, but it’s hard to get over you, so give me some time, okay? Give me some time to recuperate, and I swear I’ll go back to normal, but fuck you if you think this means I won’t care for you in anyway I can. _

You just needed some time to mend your broken heart, s’all.

–- 

He hears her hum a tune after getting out of the shower one evening, and he freezes up. She notices, of course she notices his discomfort, stopping immediately.  _ No.  _ He wants to say.  _ Please continue, you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice _ .

“Sorry, haha, it was stuck in my head,” He hears her chuckle sheepishly, “I’ll leave you alone now.” And maybe some dam breaks in him because he finds himself spinning around to meet her eyes… and then abruptly spinning back, his face now burning red upon realising that the only thing she was wearing was a towel.

“Y-You-” She starts, aghast. He runs his hand over his eyes, trying to erase the image burned into the back of his eyelids of her collarbones, flushed from the heat of the water, pale and soft and just begging to be marked. 

“You don’t have to stay in the bedroom all day.”  _ Actually, she does, Saeyoung, because you know that the more you see of her, the weaker your resolve gets. _ “Stay where I can see you. O-On the sofa, or something,” He doesn’t want her to leave him alone, ever, wants her to stay with him forever and- 

“Okay.” Her voice is soft, he’s afraid to look at the expression on her face. “Okay, I will-”

“-And,” He’s on a roll now, “What I said that day, was wrong. You… You’re not the one risking everyone’s lives, I am, because I’m not doing my job-”

“Seven…” There’s sadness in her voice, and before she can say anything else-

“-Because I keep getting distracted about whether you’ve eaten yet, or whether you went out without telling me, or whether you’re crying, because I-I can’t function without knowing you’re okay.” He turns around again, his need to see her overpowering his embarrassment, and sighs, “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Tell me. Tell me what I can do to make your life easier.” Her tone is angry, but there are tears in her eyes, and he can’t help his steps towards her, even as he dutifully ignores her body from the neck down.

“See, there you go again,” He murmurs, his hands coming up to cup her cheeks, warm and soft, and his thumbs wiping away tears before they trail down her cheek. “Stop crying, I can’t take it when you cry.” He tries to ignore the way you sag into his hands, like a flower reaching towards the sun.

“Okay, I’ll stop crying. I’ll stop crying right now,” She furrows her eyebrows, like she’s actually trying to physically disable her tear ducts, and he can’t help but huff out a laugh. “What else? I won’t go out without telling you, and I’ll eat… but only when you do.” A small smug smile finds its way on her face, and it takes everything in him to keep from leaning him and kissing her self satisfaction away. 

“Fine by me.” His voice retains back some of its stoniness as his hands drop from her face. He misses the warmth so much it hurts, but he can’t keep this up if she’s still looking into his eyes like that. He turns back around. “And I don’t know if you still have feelings for me… But if you do, you should get rid of them, because they’re useless, since I can’t return them.”

There’s a short silence.

“Alright,” She says quiet, resolutely, and his heart shouldn’t hurt as much as it does when she says her next words, “They’re nearly gone.”

–-

How can he say all this, and still insist he doesn’t love you?

Alright, okay, fine, if this is the hill he wants to die on, so be it. You’ll be good, you’ll be good for him. You can love him quietly, you don’t care. You’re 60% sure he loves you back, so whatever, fine, as long as it’s his decision, you don’t care.

You see his shoulders slump the tiniest bit at your bullshit admission, and you wait, wait for him to turn around, to ask if it's true, and then you’ll say  _ no you idiot I’m in love with you, that sort of thing doesn’t just go away that easy _ -

“Good-That’s-Good.” He breathes in, like he’s trying to build himself back up again.

“But,” You start, “Can I… Can I hug you?” Seven looks back at you, eyes wide, cheeks red. “Just because… you were really mean to me, and you need to make up for it.”

–

Someone’s going to have to sign his death certificate because he’s second away from dying.

“A hug?” He splutters, stepping backwards as she makes her way towards him. 

“Just one,” She states, determination in her eyes. He balks when the back of his legs hit his computer table.

“S-Shouldn’t you get dressed first? Aren’t you cold?” She stops just shy of stepping on his feet.

“No, and no. I already know you don’t care for me, that you never did, so just one hug, and I won’t talk to you, or distract you, or pretend you have feelings for me anymore.” There’s a melancholy in her eyes that offsets the cheerful smile on her face. His heart hurts.  _ But I do. I care for you, I love you _ .  _ What do I do with my feelings now that you’re getting rid of yours? _ But this is what he deserves, what he’s been trying to do, his comeuppance, so he nods.

Her arms slowly come around him like hot brands against his skin, and he can’t stop himself when his hands wrap around her desperately, clutching her to his chest. Her breath hitches, but he prays she ignores how eager he is. She smells so good, of cinnamon and ginger, and she’s so warm, and he’s resolutely ignoring the fact that with how close they’re pressed together, he can’t help but feel her breasts through her towel. He wants to stay like this forever, with one of her hands petting the back of his neck and the other rubbing his back in gentle, soothing strokes. He’s overwhelmed, everything feels so good and hurts so bad at the same time, and it's over before he knows it.

He feels her absence like a punch to the face, but her back is towards him, moving noiselessly back to her bedroom. 

“Thanks, Seven!” She calls out, hand waving behind her without looking back, “Gonna go change now.” 

And somehow, it feels like he’s watching the closing gates of a prison that he cannot escape from.

–-

You’re crying. You’re fucking crying. From one hug? You’re pathetic. You wipe away your tears, shoving your clothes on your body angrily, like you have a grudge against your striped pyjama bottoms and your faded band tee.  _ Get a grip! _

You need to take a walk. You absolutely need to take a walk. You need to clear your head, get far, far away from the temptation that is Luciel Choi, and you  _ need _ to take a walk.

…But he did tell you not to go out without telling him. 

You flounder for a moment, trying to think of something that would allow you to avoid him while getting some time alone for yourself. Maybe if you brought the hoodie he put a tracker on…

When you quietly open your door, you’re relieved to see his headphones on his head, because that automatically means he’s dead to the outside world, his attention limited to the swirling pages of code in front of him. You’re sure he wouldn’t mind if… you leave him a sticky note instead… 

_ Went out for a walk. Sorry about not telling you, but at least I have your tracker! Will be back in 15 minutes tops.  _ <3

You stick the neon yellow piece of paper to the table, where he’s unable to miss it, and look at the security camera one more time, sending future Seven a flying kiss.

–-

10 minutes later and you’re staring at Saeran’s psychotic face, from where he ambushed you outside your apartment building, tied you up, and shoved you in his car.

“Are you  _ kidding me _ ?” You demand, wrists sore from trying to break through the heavy duty zip tie binding your hands together. “Are you literally kidding me? Oh my god, Luciel’s going to kill me. He’ll literally never let me live this down! Are you insane?”

Saeran’s ignoring you, driving silently. You struggle a bit, eventually managing to sit up in the backseat.

“Hey! When your brother told me you might be waiting outside the apartment for me I didn’t think he was serious! What the fuck, Saeran?” 

That gets a reaction from him. His mint green eyes glare at you from the rearview mirror. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well then  _ let me go _ , you  _ jerk _ !” You’re panicking now, breaths coming faster, close to hyperventilation.

“Do you think this is a game?” His voice is quiet, but the underlying tone of violence is clear to you. You pull against your restraints again, fruitlessly.

“Please,” You accidentally let out a sob, “Just… Just let me go.”

“Not possible, I’m afraid.” He says nonchalantly, “Saeyoung needs to be taught a lesson, that’s what my Saviour said. And what my Saviour wants, my Saviour gets.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Saeran stops at a red light, before pulling something from the storage compartment of the passenger seat. In a heartbeat, he leans in your direction, his hand coming towards you. A sharp pain in your neck makes tears prick in your eyes.

“W-What did you just do?”

“Was tired of hearing you.” You hear him say, before your eyelids start to flutter shut on their own accord, and you’re swept up in a darkness that smells of PhD Pepper and Honey Buddha chips.

–-

He loves her, he does, but he’s about to kill her right now. Nearly 20 minutes after telling him that she wouldn’t leave the apartment without telling him and that she wouldn’t distract him, they’re here, where at this point in time, she has left the apartment without telling him, a mere sticky note to inform him about her absence, and he is woefully and utterly distracted, by her. 

And it would be fine, it really would, if she was here right now, but he checked the security cameras, face reddening at her flying kiss, and she left nearly 30 minutes ago, which means something must’ve happened. And since she’s not answering the frantic messages he left her, the remaining explanations for her continuing absence are starting to get darker and darker, and he’s starting to get more and more worried.

He’s this close to pulling his hair out of his scalp, when his phone finally dings, and he unlocks it at a ridiculous speed, his face turning pale and his stomach dropping when he sees her latest message. It’s an address, followed by a picture of her reddened, bound wrists.  _ Come quick, brother _ .

–-

When she wakes, she’s tied to a wooden chair, with a white standing light shining directly into her eyes. 

Saeran’s there, sitting in a chair opposite her. He looks up to see her conscious, and looks back down at his phone.

“Saviour says that hurting you will hurt him, and I want to hurt him.” He mutters, standing up and walking towards her.

“W-Wait, you’re wrong, your saviour is wrong. He doesn’t care,” you ramble, “You could kill me right now and all it would be is an inconvenience to him, but he cares about you, Saeran-”

Your head snaps to the side as his palm smacks your cheek, the stinging pain sending tears to your eyes. “I told you not to call me that.”

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” You retorted.

“Doesn’t it hurt, to know he doesn’t care about you though? Doesn’t it burn to know that it doesn’t matter to him whether you live or die? I know it hurt me.” Saeran’s eyes have a silent curiosity in them that breaks your heart.

“He does, I promise you, he cares about you, just ask hi-” Your eyes widen as his hands come up on either side of your neck, squeezing, squeezing-

“ _ Shut up _ ! If he cared, he wouldn’t have left me, he wouldn’t have left me to the  _ wolves _ .” There’s anger in his voice, pain, and resentment, and you’re lightheaded.

“H-He thought- y’were taken care of-” You stutter, voice choked, “P-Please I can’t b-breathe-”

“He thought wrong,” Saeran hisses, squeezing even tighter. Your vision blurs, and you cough when he lets go.

“I promise-I promise you, I mean nothing to him.” You pant, “He doesn’t even like me, he only tolerates me because you were the one that sent me to him,” And you didn’t really mean it when you started but now that the words are out of your mouth you wonder if there’s a truth to it, “I disgust him, I infuriate him, I’m a thorn in his side, you’d be doing him a favour by getting rid of me.” Maybe Saeran sees something in your eyes, because a cruel smile takes over his face. 

“You hear that, brother?” He says, and you literally want to die, “A favour, she says! Should I do you a favour?” He sees the confusion on your face, poking your forehead with a finger. “Don’t worry, he’s enjoying a live feed of your performance right this second! With audio, and everything! Ready for the grand finale?” Your heart skips a beat when Saeran pulls something out of the waistband of his pants, solid and grey and deadly.

“Y-You don’t have to do this.” You stutter out, eyes unable to leave his finger on the trigger.

“Ah right, you said he doesn’t care for you at all, was it?” He trails the gun from your shoulder to your chest, smiling at the tears of terror that escape your eyes. “That… you were an inconvenience, yadda, yadda, yadda. I’m sure that it wouldn’t hurt to know that he probably isn’t even looking for you right now. That my message to his phone went unanswered, and that he probably won’t even watch this performance until you’re bleeding out on the ground, or even dead.”

Your face shutters, your eyes sliding down to the floor, vision blurring through the tears that form. You don’t know if it’s true but… would you be surprised if it was?

“...I’ve already told you he doesn’t care.”

“Ahh right, you have, you have. Well. I guess this is goodbye, then?” He takes aim at your chest, and your breaths increase in speed, just as the door bursts open. You nearly faint in relief when you see Seven, his phone in his hand, his hair dishevelled like he’s been running his hands through it, his eyes wide and terrified.

“Saeran-” You hear the gunshot more than feel it at first, the bang ringing through your ears. You see Seven’s face contort in disbelief, his hand outstretched towards you, but the most confusing thing is Saeran, who looks at the growing blood stain on your chest, looks at his gun, a look of horror growing on his face, and sputters.

“It-It was supposed to be blank-What-Saviour told me it was-,” He’s stuttering, and stuttering, and there’s a pressure in your chest that shouldn’t be there, watching as Saeran falls to his knees in front of you, his hands on his head. Seven comes into your line of sight, his face dazed, devastated and furious all in one. His hands move to untie your wrists, looking up at you.

“You’re going to be okay, stay with me, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay,” You slur, using one of your free hands to reach up to his face, cupping the curve of his jaw. Without your bindings to hold you up, you just kind of slide down from the chair, onto the floor, making eye contact with Saeran, who looks like he’s seconds away from falling apart. “H-Hey,” You lift a hand towards him, patting his head, “It’s okay, s’alright, I’ll be fin-” you cough, and something slick slides down your chin. Faintly, you can taste copper in your mouth. “Thas’ no good.” You mumble.

–-

This has to be a nightmare. That’s the only explanation. This has to be a complete and utter nightmare because if someone tells Saeyoung he’s supposed to accept that he just saw his brother attempt to kill his… her, then he’d tell that someone to fuck right the fuck off. He’s applying pressure to her wound,  _ god _ it’s a chest wound, and she’s coughing blood, which means she has a punctured lung, and could very well- No. He won’t let her, not when he has so much to refute, so many of her stupid accusations to deny.

“H-Hyung, I swear I didn’t,” Saeran hiccups beside him, breath hitching on a sob, “I didn’t mean to, hyung, please,” Tears cloud his vision as he hears his brother’s plea, and he wipes them away angrily, one hand still pressing down on her chest wound. He can’t look at him right now. The ambulance will be here soon.

“S-Seven,” She gasps, and it hurts he hurts, he hurts for her, he hurts for his brother, he hurts for himself, “I’ll b-be fine, you know I will.” She smiles a little, her teeth red from blood, a gruesome reproduction of joy. “I’m s-sorry for-” she coughs, “leaving without-telling you, and I-I’m sorry I p-pretended like,” She takes a scratchy, horrible breath, “I could ever get over you,” And this sounds too much like a goodbye for him.

“Stop talking,” He pleads, a hand coming up to push her hair behind her ear, “Please, you can tell me this after you’re safe.”

“I’m tired,” She murmurs, leaning into his touch, “-Love you, Saeyoung,” A whisper, before her eyes flutter close, and the only thing he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears, his racing heartbeat at the possibility that she’ll never open them again. How is he going to live with himself if she never opens them again?

“Open your eyes,” He tries hard to keep the panic from leaking into his voice, but he doesn’t really think he succeeds, “Come on, baby, open your eyes for me.” Beside him, Saeran’s sobs increase in volume.

She opens her eyes lazily, and he can breathe easy again.

“C-Can you say that you love me? Just once, jus-” She sighs, “Doesn’ hafta be true, jus-”

“I love you,” He frets, “Please stay with me so I can show you how much I love you.”

A peaceful smile makes its way onto her face, “Mmm- Okay-” And her little grin goes slack just as he hears the ambulance sirens approaching.  _ Fuck _ . The paramedics run to her, their focus on the gunshot victim and not on why or how it happened. Saeran is still kneeling on the floor. It really isn’t helpful to the fear that’s taking over his chest about whether or not she’s going to survive, but he’s taken back to his childhood where he would take hits for his little brother, and Saeran would be so, so apologetic, wide eyes begging for forgiveness. But back then, nothing was his fault. Right now, everything is, and that’s what hurts the most.

  
But he’s still his baby brother.

Reaching down, he ruffles his hair, ignoring his inner turmoil. Saeran looks up at him, same wide eyes, begging for forgiveness, now just a different colour.

“Hurry up, crybaby, I want to catch a ride on the ambulance.”

-–

She’s barely conscious in the ambulance, the only way he’s sure she’s not dead is the way her hand squeezes his in response to his hand squeezing hers. Saeran is silent next to him, his back bowed in sorrow.

“What… What were you even thinking?” He sighs, and more tears fall from his brother’s eyes.

“I just-I just wanted to make you scared, a little, and see you in pain, show you how I felt all those years, and they were supposed to be blanks so I-But then I saw you in pain, and realised I never wanted that at all,” Saeran sniffles, “A-And she was so nice, b-but,” He lets out a devastating whimper, “I’m sorry- Hyung, I’m so sorry.” It would be easier if he could hate him, but how could he?

“Hey…” Saeyoung murmurs, other arm coming up around Saeran’s neck, pulling him closer towards him. Saeran’s arms wrap around his brother’s body, sobbing into his shirt collar. “It’s fine, okay? We’re going to figure this out.” He looks at Saeran’s shaking shoulders, “ _ God _ , a decade and still a crybaby, huh?”, Saeran pinches his waist softly in retaliation. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he can’t help but huff out a laugh. “We have to pray, okay?” He mumbles, eyes falling on her pale, pale face, “We have to pray for her.” He doesn’t know what he’d do if she doesn’t make it. Doesn’t know if he can ever look his brother in the face again without remembering the way her face looked when she stared down at the hole in her chest, the gentle way she stroked his brother’s hair, despite him being the one who shot her. Face still in his neck, Saeran nods.

–- 

When they reach the hospital she’s already flatlined twice, and his hands haven’t stopped shaking from the panic that he felt when he first heard the heart monitor. She’s taken directly to the ICU, and he and Saeran are left in the waiting room, his last image of her deathly pale, blood coating her lips. 

“If…” Saeran starts, rubbing his wrist with his other hand and biting his lip. “If she doesn’t make it, I’ll turn myself in.” He finishes, determined, and Saeyoung sighs.

“If she doesn’t make it, I don’t think I can handle losing you too.” His hand comes up to rub at his temples, a migraine starting at the back of his skull and pain spasming down the nerves of his neck. “So just-just stay with me,” He looks up from where he’s sitting down to make eye contact with his standing brother, finally taking in the nervous slant of his mouth, the skittish way his eyes jump around his own facial features, as if Saeran can’t believe he’s actually in front of his eyes. He reaches out a hand to grab the one on Saeran’s wrist, stopping him from scratching at the black cuff around it with bitten fingernails and leaving red, angry marks. “I’m not leaving you again, I’m never leaving you again, so don’t you leave me, okay?” 

His nose burns as he watches tears pool in Saeran’s eyes, his own vision blurring.  _ Strong _ . He screams to himself.  _ You have to be strong. _

“Who’s-” Saeran sobs, moving towards him to hug him again, and god he missed this, he missed his little brother, “Who’s the crybaby now?” His head rests on the warm fabric covering his brother’s stomach, tears running down his face unimpeded. 

“Shut up.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> personally i'd like to believe that mc's gonna fall in love with them both when she wakes up... if she wakes up... 
> 
> honestly i might add more, mysmes fics are so fun to write (｡T ω T｡) I'm not one for twincest but maybe... haha just kidding. unless...?
> 
> maybe I'll split them up to proper chapters as well heh, until next time!


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